There's a Hair on My Easter Egg

I finally decided to get off of my lazy rear and get some sort of post up. I apologize; I have been in a Cadbury Creme Egg-induced haze and have simply not been able to function. Happens every year. Those all-too-innocent-looking eggs and their devil spawn, the Cadbury Mini Eggs, are the reason why I seriously consider spending time from April to the following February of every year lobbying to get some sort of FDA-approved ban on those things. I swear, there has got to be an addictive chemical in them. Oh yeah, maybe it's CHOCOLATE. But inevitably, the next year, I go from innocently walking through the grocery store and actually bypassing the candy aisle to Hulking Out into a half woman, half slobbering beast, tackling little kids left and right as I climb over them to The Eggs and proceed to convert my entire bloodstream into gloppy, drippy, sugary white and yellow goo. Then I usually have to lay there, patting my tummy and growling at parents trying to retrieve their traumatized children until I morph back into my sweet self, having blacked out the whole episode and being left to wonder why store security has again escorted me to my car. Thank goodness Easter is over.

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My face hurts. No, not from packing my cheeks full of creme eggs, though that could be part of it. No, my face hurts because I am ridiculous. I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which you can read about here, preferably at night if you need a good cure for insomnia. Anyway, one of the lovely (and there are many) symptoms of having this condition is excessive body hair. I guess it's just too much to ask for something like "rapid and permanent weight loss resulting in a J.Lo-type appearance." I have been particularly lucky, though, because I also have bad circulation, which combats the excessive body hair and leaves me shaving my legs, or The Boonzie National Forest, no more often then the rest of my wannabe hairless sisters in the world. This also helps to eliminate confusion as to whether or not I could be distantly related to a sasquatch since I don't have to worry about scary, random patches of fur anywhere they don't need to be.

Anyway, last night as I was removing my make-up, I decided that I have too much facial hair. No one has ever told me this, probably because no one has ever noticed. Um, probably because I don't even have excessive facial hair. But, I could not be convinced of this last night. So, being the instant gratification sort that I am, I had to get rid of that hair and it had to be done ASAP.

Hmm. Depilatory, depilatory. Do I have any? I thought I had some. Oh, here we go. Looks like it expired in 2001, though. What are all of those little crusties in it? Is it supposed to be that blueish-green color? Well, the cap to the bottle is blue. That doesn't mean anything, but, oh hell, let's do it.

What could The Noodle possibly be cooking this late? We already HAD dinner. Oh wait, that sizzling sound is flesh peeling off of my face. Great. Why did I decide to do this on Sunday night, right before going back to work? I really should wash this off...wait..."Shall We Dance" is almost over and I have to see if Richard Gere shows up to J. Lo's party before she goes off to ballroom dance in London! Please, Richard, ya gotta go! Oh, he just went up the escalator in a tux with a rose to pick up his wife and now they're dancing in the middle of the department store! Awww! I can't believe The Noodle wanted to play his hunting game over watching this with m... - Ow! Ow! OUCH!

Get it off! Get it off! I'm melting, I'm mellllllttttingggg...must...make it...to the...sink...

And there ends our happy little story. Today I have a red beard of about a quarter of an inch of raised flesh running from ear to ear that stings with pretty much every movement of my facial muscles.

The good news is: I don't have ANY facial hair! Nope, not anymore! Smooth as a baby's bottom! Okay, so I probably managed to singe off at least three layers of skin. And, it IS possible that I have on more make-up than Elizabeth Taylor at an Elton John charity fundraiser, BUT, I am hair free, kids.

C'mon. You know you wish you were like me.